


Medical Uniforms

by CityBoundBabe (orphan_account)



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies), Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Bones in a Nurse's outfit, M/M, PWP, cross dressing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-23
Updated: 2013-06-23
Packaged: 2017-12-15 20:53:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,923
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/853932
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/CityBoundBabe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jim requests Bones wear something new in the bedroom. It's not quite the medical uniform McCoy was expecting, but neither of them are about to complain about it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Medical Uniforms

**Author's Note:**

> Uhh so a friend on tumblr was like 'give me McKirk' and I said 'I will try but it will be full of medical innuendos' and they said 'Bones in a Nurse's outfit' and I said 'I can do zat' and that is why we have what have right here. I've never written m/m porn before, but uh... Well I gave it my damned best.

He felt a bit like an idiot.

Okay he felt a lot like an idiot.

It wasn't the dress, nah, that wasn't the problem. It was the fact that it looked, felt, and even smelled a little bit like Jim had found the damn thing in a Halloween store. Not only that, but it was OLD. Not old by years, it was too crisp to be an old uniform, old in appearance. Nobody had worn a Nurse uniform that looked even remotely like this since the 21st century, at least. Maybe even before that. A stylized white tunic that CLUNG everywhere, that was so low cut he was amazed that nothing was poking out, though if he bent the wrong way he'd give anybody within a mile radius a pretty good show, he figured. It was hemmed in red, bearing a red cross on the breast with a white Caduceus in the center. There were sheer white stockings to go with it, a garter that he'd put on, and high heeled white pumps that he'd refused to put on, largely because they simply didn't fit. He'd frowned the entire time because of how CHEESY the whole thing was. He didn't feel at all like himself. Where had Jim even GOTTEN this? It wasn't made to fit a man's frame, it dipped down to show off his chest, was too tight pretty much all over, and it just... Where'd he even FIND this damn thing?

It wasn't QUITE the medical uniform he'd thought he'd be wearing. 

Still...

McCoy found he was standing a little differently, holding himself differently, staring critically at himself in Jim's mirror, running his hands along the fabric, trying to figure out if he hated it or not. Trying to decide if he should come out of the bathroom glaring at Jim, or... Something else.

The longer he stared, the longer he inspected himself, the less adverse to it he found himself being. The more he felt like... somebody new. 

Leonard H. McCoy was the Doctor, Bones was the friend, the lover, all together they made the man. This... guy in the mirror wearing an out of date costume was something wholly different. Someone he could shape and define all by himself, somebody he WAS but had never had the chance to flesh out and explore.  
He tested a wicked little grin in the mirror, and found he liked it.

"You coming out?"

"Not sure yet."

"You've been in there for twenty minutes, Bones."

"Might need twenty more."

"McCoy..."

He smooths down the fabric a little more, does an about face, and with little fanfare, slips out the automatic door and into his Captain's cabin.

"It's about time, you-"

It wasn't very often that Bones got the jump in Jim, so to speak. He could keep up with him tit for tat, that was never in question, but catching the Captain off guard and surprised... Well that was a little less oft to happen. 

"Like what you see?" somewhere in the back of his mind, he thought about how cheesy that sounded, but whatever this dress was doing to him kept him from worrying about it too much.

"Like... Doesn't quite cover what I'm seeing." Kirk grinned. 

"Oh? What would cover what you're seeing, then?"

Jim opened his mouth briefly, apparently at a loss for words, and Bones once more relished the fact that he had the jump on the man this time around. Jim Kirk, so quick to have a response, had to think about what he wanted to say. "You're not wearing the shoes."

"They were too small."

"You know what they say about men with big feet."

"Big thermometer?"

"Are you telling me you need your temperature taken, Jim?"

"It's possible, Bones, I'm feeling a bit feverish all of a sudden."

Whatever happened immediately after that became a bit of a blur, because both were grinning so wickedly and trying so hard not to laugh that they kind of crashed into one another with the intent of kissing the damn smirks off each others faces. Again, it was strange, because Bones didn't feel one hundred percent like BONES at the moment. He felt a little more wicked than usual, a little more... adventurous. It was strange, but it wasn't bad. It was just new, much like how the relationship with Jim had started in the first place.

So he figured, this could end up just as excellent.

Before he knew what he was doing, McCoy was straddling Kirk on the bed, effectively sitting in the other man's lap, lips pressed to lips and long, surgeon's fingers trailing up Kirk's arms and shoulders. 

Bones uses his hands a lot, he's aware enough of his own quirks and habits in the bedroom to know that he favors his those above all other appendages. He has great hands, he thinks, though he'd never say that sort of thing if he was asked. Long fingers, strong fingers, firm palms, running up thighs, cradling hips or a head, stroking up and down, driving whoever-Kirk-he's with wild. He's good with his hands, and he knows how to use them, and he can feel Kirk's skin shiver beneath his clothes, presses a palm against his shoulder blade and runs a hand along the inside of his thigh, squeezing just near but not quite where Kirk wants him to, threads his fingers through short, golden hair. He likes feeling Kirk unravel little by little as McCoy plays him like a well tuned instrument, a well loved instrument. 

And on the other end, Kirk uses his mouth, which, if Bones tries to psychoanalyze it, makes a lot of sense. The man uses wits whenever he can, prefers it, so it's no surprise that his romantic tendencies side on the oral. He nibbles at collar bones and sucks on lower lips, creates glorious marks on the crook of Bones' neck that leave him constantly tugging at his collar the day after, hoping nobody sees. He knows just where to go to get Bones in a tizzy, just where to apply tongue and teeth and kisses to leave McCoy with goose bumps and the severe urge to pin him to the bed and make him stop teasing. 

Eventually, they wear each other down, because while they're very much equals they're also both fairly egotistical men, there's a sort of quiet, unspoken challenge every time they get in the bedroom. Who can make who give in first? It varies, usually, and it never really matters, but it always sends a thrill up Bones' spine, and probably Kirk's as well. But the kissing and the nibbling and the roaming hands that know just where to press and squeeze and stroke in just the right damn places makes Kirk growl and move to flip them back and around on the bed.

But this time, because he caught Kirk off guard and because both their mouths are kiss drunk and because Bones' hands are a little extra flighty today, McCoy keeps them right where they are, and keeps Kirk's hands locked around his waist.

"Bones-?"

Whatever it is about the dress and the stockings and the EVERYTHING that has Bones in such a bizarre mood keeps him from letting Kirk pull him backwards onto the bed. Nimble fingers, doctor's hands pull the tight white dress up around his hips and release his erection, finally, and those quick hands reach down to undo his Captain's pants and pull his equally straining cock. Bones settles a little better in Kirk's lap and they scoot back on the bed a bit, almost instinctively, before McCoy wraps those damn beautiful hands around both their cocks and pulls them together, stroking and tugging gently. The friction and the moisture and Kirk makes the most wonderful face and noise of surprise and absolute pleasure that Bones can't help but latch his mouth to Jim's throat, breathing hard through his nose.

Jim's hands trail up Bones' stockinged thighs and squeeze there, one hand traveling beyond where both there cocks are pressed and rubbing together, McCoy's hands furthering what's going on to a point where Bones' isn't sure how much longer he can go on with this. Jim's hand flicks over the head of his penis and rubs it, and Bones shivers, groaning against his Captain's mouth. Jim pushes the dress up over Bones' belly and runs his hand along there and that's about the point that both of them decide it's time to move on because neither are gonna last any longer, the way they're going. 

They break apart a little, for air, and Bones helps Jim relieve himself of his shirt, and then the pants are going as Bones moves over to get a bit more comfortable on the bed, and the boots and socks disappeared a long time ago, before Bones even went into the bathroom to change. McCoy goes to start unbuttoning the dress, but Jim stops him.

"Could you- leave that on?"

"Leave it on?"

"Yes."

He pauses, briefly, gasping and disheveled, cock out, and for a minute he sees himself through Jim's eyes, briefly. Kiss swollen lips, dressed in the most bizarrely erotic outfit he's ever been in, and with a sudden power in the bedroom he's never had before. Jim can't stop staring at him, and Bones rebuttons the dress without saying a word before laying back on the bed.

He watches Jim go about the business of condom, lube, necessary but damned annoying when he's laying there waiting, ready to go. But then Jim's on top of him, running a hand along his silk-dressed leg and hooking it over his shoulder, other hand at the junction of his legs to press a finger inside of him, then two, then three, and the waiting bit drifts away, because Kirk's planting kisses all along his collarbone now, nibbling and sucking while McCoy rungs fingers through his hair. The way the fabric of the dress feels against his skin, the silk of the stockings, Jim's fingers doing that fantastic curling thing inside him, touching just the right spot and just-

"Dammit, Jim-"

Kirk laughs. "Hurry up?"

"Don't rush on my account," he grouses, but Jim complies, and Bones misses the absence of his fingers greatly. 

"Time to take your temperature?"

He glares daggers at the man with his legs over his shoulders, but Jim just laughs and pushes into him, easy and fantastic and full and- the way the silk pulls against his skin and the way the dress bunches up around his hips, the friction and the heat and everything that comes with really fucking good sex blow the irritation far from his mind.

It doesn't take long, they're both too wound up. Quick thrusts and then a long, painfully drawn out one that hits every damn spot to make McCoy latch onto Jim, mouths locked together almost desperately. Once, twice, three more times and Jim's hand is wrapped around his cock, stroking and pumping and it's all over, he comes and sees stars and seconds later Jim lets go with a shaking groan, hunched over McCoy and leaving gasping kisses on his sweaty shoulder. 

Eventually, Jim rolls over to the side and they lay there for a few minutes, catching their breath, cooling down.

"So?"

"What?"

"Clean bill of health or not, Doctor?"

"I hate you."

Jim laughs. "Sure you do."

Leonard doesn't say anything, but he starts to wonder how he can get this damn thing through the wash without people asking questions.


End file.
